


On Garden's Delight

by orphan_account



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, but why would you when you could have a pretentious dramatic poem instead, you could have fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 06:08:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Because on the inside of your nails, it’s me you have, in Paris somewhere,so pinned as I with the brute force of your stare.





	On Garden's Delight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zzzubat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzzubat/gifts).



> *Bill Wurt's voice* oh hi thanks for checking in I'm--  
> still a piece of garbaaaaaage.
> 
> (also pls read on web browser if you can bc mobile kills the formatting of the poem).

Because on the inside of your nails, it’s me you have, in Paris somewhere.  
As the serpent coils around the appletree on Garden’s Delight,  
so pinned as I with the brute force of your stare. 

 

Scarlet beneath as the city bled onto your tear,  
with the corners of your mouth, you brought me to heel during today’s bright night.  
Because on the inside of your nails, it’s me you have, in Paris somewhere.

 

If you’d soak your lips with the poured blood you bared,  
transfixed as I lay, for it didn’t compare the pain against your bite  
So pinned as I with the brute force of your stare.

 

Then came the hollowness, slipping away your knifed hand to and fro my despair,  
the gutted truth spilt, bleeding upon sight,  
because on the inside of your nails, it’s me you have, in Paris somewhere.

 

I’d have raised my tongue to meet the necessary folds and give you an affair,  
I’d have your husband know my smite,  
so pinned as I with the brute force of your stare.

 

Now they are your abandoned screams that echo on the light air,  
for soon my own head would turn up on a silver platter rather your own turn into life’s twilight.  
Because on the inside of your nails, it’s me you have, in Paris somewhere.  
So pinned as I with the brute force of your stare

**Author's Note:**

> This happened bc I desperately wanted fic in Villanelle's perspective but we don't know nearly ENOUGH about her to know what a full fic would sound like from her so. You guys got me being dramatic in poetic literary form. You're welcome.
> 
> p.s: because I've never written any poems in English before, I had to grab a villanelle off of the internet and dissect it so I could understand what this poem structure was made of. So this ended up taking me a full day to compose.


End file.
